


[My] Aquamarine

by Sonzaishinai



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: A conglomeration of AU's, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Bruce isn't rich, Mafia/Gangster AU (will update when settled), Multi, Not much to tag yet, Will update as things unfold, as in like their social status/wealth, no capes AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 06:23:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18654733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonzaishinai/pseuds/Sonzaishinai
Summary: Unknown to much of Metropolis, a few elite families hold vast power over the criminal underground, their dominance and influence branching out through many states and continents. Unfortunately for lower-class citizen, Bruce Wayne, a selfless deed gets him entangled in a web watched carefully by none other than perhaps the most powerful family around- an organization headed by an elite who elusively goes by the pseudonym Kal-El.





	[My] Aquamarine

**Author's Note:**

> Saw a prompt. Liked it. Procrastinating on HW at one am. Decided fuck it, why not.  
> I have literally no plot rn. Enjoy.

\---

 

Bruce wiped at his brow, his body an inferno under his clothes whilst out in the Metropolis heat. Seriously, though, it was well into 6 PM already, he’d have thought that the weather would at least be a tad bit forgiving.

 

Alas, he sighed. He really wasn’t cut out for this, but Alfred had no one else to send out for ingredients for the shop. The boys were all out of town for varying personal matters ranging from school to work, Cass was spending her day off with Stephanie, and Alfred was the backbone of the place. There was no way he could venture out to the supermarket that was a damn near 45-minute walk away, spend an hour or more there looking for the much-needed supplies, and then tread all the way back especially with age coming down on him. Not under this weather, no. Bruce was the only option.

 

Quietly tossing his misery around in his head, Bruce reviewed the list he had out for him given by Alfred, muttering it out loud.

 

“Yeast, flour, baking soda, eggs, more milk, condensed milk…” and so on he went.

 

Really, with the length of the list, he just hopes he’ll make it back before the stuff spoiled or got ruined.

 

\---

 

The second Bruce stepped back out into the outdoors, a wave of heat struck him, robbing him of the relief that the air-conditioning inside gave. On his arms were several plastic bags and a tote bag that delicately balanced the abundance of supplies inside, a couple more paper bags hugged to his chest as he ignored the plastic and fabric digging into the skin of his forearms. 

 

He seriously considered getting a car now. Really, for two miles of walking, 40 minutes out in this heat was overkill, not to mention the heavy burden weighing down his arms now. 

 

As he started his dreadful tread back to the shop, sweat itching at his temples already, Bruce could feel the pitiful stares from the cashiers inside and a couple of other regulars in the parking lot. No matter, he’d be fine (he hoped).

 

One step in front of the other, one step in front of the other. Soon enough, with his head wrapped in thought, Bruce had traversed a good half a mile. Up above, just barely over the frilly edges of the paper bags, a mop of black hair belonging to a kid was slightly visible. Further ahead, there was the stoplight where he’d have to turn right at after crossing. 

 

He frowned, knowing the area well. While he typically avoids it, thus adding an extra five minutes to his walk to the supermarket, cutting through the place would cut down on time for him. He really didn’t want to, though. It wasn’t that the impoverished abodes uneased him, but rather, the gang activity in the area. None of the others ever really made any complaint about it, them frequenting the route despite his protests and having become decently acquainted with those who paraded protection for loyalty, but with his avoidance, there was little much for him to rely on.

 

Bruce shuddered, remembering the last time he walked through there, acutely aware of the cautious, predatory, and lecherous eyes alike that’d watched him.

 

His thoughts were displaced, though, with the sudden, ear-aching squeal of rubber tires, a black sedan hastily moving out of an alleyway ahead. The window in Bruce’s direction was down and-

 

Bruce bolted, shaking off the stuff he held frantically to jump in front of the little boy he’d spotted earlier. When he heard the clicking of the gun, he’d thought himself too late before shots rang out as he tackled the child to the cement-

 

BANG BANG BANG!!

 

Bruce’s ears deafened, but he took no notice of it, excruciating pain overwhelming him as all three bullets struck. The escaping rev of an engine and tires drifting across asphalt also went unheard, Bruce faintly aware of the hair blocking his vision and timid hands pushing at him.

 

By the time several men adorning black suits frantically ran up to him and the child accompanied by sirens, his senses had entirely blacked out. His last thought was of Alfred, and the scolding he’d get if he brought ruined ingredients into their delicate, family-owned shop.


End file.
